I press my fingertips together,
trying to rub out the phantom sensation of you
still moving through me.
Muscles tensing, thinking how the solidity of your love
penetrated me not so long ago.
Prompting memories of our chronic affair;
fanatical and weakening.
And I am unable to move forward;
feeling like you should save me,
knowing you’re no good for my therapy.
Don’t really want to be treated anyway,
just want to get back to who I belong to.